Christmas seems to be trying so hard for me to like it that I can’t help but hate it, as though it were an ad campaign that was constantly in your face. I wish for a time machine that could take me to my in-laws’ house on Christmas Eve, where family, good cheer, and good food really are the most important things. Because then the Christmas carols on the stereo there wouldn’t make me want to put on headphones and listen to my iPod, and I wouldn’t have to force myself to smile every time someone says “Merry Christmas.” I love watching my kids enjoy Christmas, and I don’t want to hate it. But I do.

I think we can all, even the most ardent lovers of Christmas, relate to that. The Walgreen’s near my house had Christmas displays out the day after Halloween this year. Sh*t has gotten out of control.

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I remember as a kid in the eighties hearing people bitch about how early the holiday decorations came out. I have a sneaking suspicion that all of the pining for the old days of Christmas is complete utter revisionist bullshit and is the holiday equivalent of republicans who imagine an America in the 50s that didn’t actually exist.